Never Leave Your Side
by Emma Sparrow
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate some supernaturaly driven suicides in the hope to destroy the spirit causing them before it can effect anyone else. Can the brothers succeed, or will they find themselves more involved then they'd planned? TWO PART SHORT STORY
1. PART ONE OF TWO

**JUST A QUICK NOTE....**I just need to inform all readers, that even though I have never been very good a geography, plus because I live in England, I'm not at all familiar with places in the USA, BUT, I have tried my very best to make sure that the place names etc.. at least sound just convincing enough...maybe you could let me know how I've done in reviews.

**ALSO, A WARNING....**this story mentions suicide style deaths, if you feel as if this is unsuitable material for you, do not read the story!

**PART TWO WILL BE UP IN A COUPLE OF DAYS....**it's nearly finished now anyway!

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**SUPERNATURAL - NEVER LEAVE YOUR SIDE**

**(PART ONE OF TWO)**

Sam Winchester approached his brother Dean slowly and cautiously. He was limping due to the gun-shot wound that he had acquired just yesterday. Luckily it hadn't been too serious, Dean had only just managed to hit the side of his calf with the bullet, though it had still caused quite a lot of blood which had soaked into the rip on his jeans. It had hurt like hell to get here so that he could save his brother in time.

As he got closer, he held up his hands in front of him as if to encourage Dean to stop what he was doing, and to show that he didn't need to feel threatened by his presence. Tears rolled down his dirty face, and glittered in the white and silvery light of the full-moon that engulfed them.

But, Dean had his back to Sam. He was looking into the valley below the cliff edge that he was standing precariously on, glaring down through his own tears that he made no effort to fight, and into the precipice of darkness that was inviting him down to lose himself in for good. To lose the way that he felt right now. The overwhelming surge of emotion that had sparked up from out of nowhere. Years worth of pain had finally climbed out from the deepest darkest parts of his heart, and had unleashed its full burden upon the bearer. He felt like he might explode at any moment as the pressure continued to build, easing the fast flowing tears through his eyes as it prepared to violently surface. He didn't want to feel this way any more. He'd had enough.

"Dean," Sam sobbed, "please don't do this. I need you, I...I can't do this without you. This isn't you Dean..." with those words, he shifted a sideways glance to the right, to the black robed spirit that stood eerily next to Dean, mirroring even his slightest movement. The darkness oozed from it, sending a shiver down Sam's spine. If that's how it made _him_ feel, he dreaded to think what it was doing to Dean's thoughts and feelings. Its evilness had infiltrated his brother and he needed to think fast. He needed to stop it now before it made it's final move on him. Before it made Dean jump to his death...

_**Three Days Earlier...**_

"Okay Sammy, what we got?" Dean asked enthusiastically before shovelling a fork-full of his Monty's Diner special of bacon and scrambled egg breakfast into his mouth. As he chewed, a few bits of egg managed to escape and dropped off his chin. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, trying to work out how it had even been possible for him to miss a mouth of that size.

"Well," Sam said trying to ignore his brother's eating habits as best as he could so that he could begin to concentrate on the more important issue of why they had travelled all the way here to Arkansas, "There has been some strange deaths in a town called Pulaski in Little Rock. Four in the last two months." as he was telling Dean what he knew, he had his laptop on the table, and was looking through website articles that detailed the last woman's death along with her photograph.

"So, how'd they die?" Dean asked in a mumble. His mouth was still full.

"The coroner said it was a suicide in each case, but I really don't think that it was." he stared hard and thoughtfully at the photo. "This woman here, the latest one to die, was Sharon Reeves. She jumped in front of a bus a week ago while her teenage daughter Chloe, witnessed from the sidewalk. It says here, that when Chloe was questioned by the police afterwards, she claimed to have seen a dark shadow right besides her mother as the bus hit, so at first, they thought that there might have been somebody involved in her mothers death. But they ruled it out a couple of days later, claiming that Chloe was under so much emotional strain, that they hadn't got anything to prove that what she saw wasn't just a result of that stress. Then, that night, Chloe went around to the local sheriff's department, and had an outburst. Caused such a disturbance, that she was admitted to the psychiatric ward."

Sam looked up to see that Dean was staring at him. His plate empty in front of him. "Dude! You've eaten that _already_?"

"Yep!" Dean sighed as he slouched down lazily into the faux red leather seat, "A personal best." with that, he let out a fairly large belch which caused the slim blonde waitress to cease pouring coffee for the customer in the next booth, and look up at him disgustedly. He grinned cheekily at her, causing her to turn her nose up and walk back to the serving counter as fast as she could. "Ah, she'd have never managed to handle me anyway!" he chuckled.

"Dean! Do you think we can get back to this?" Sam snapped in an irritated tone.

"Oooo sorry Mr Extra-Credit! Didn't mean to interrupt your homework by havin' fun. You remember what that is don't you Sammy? Fun? A few beers, a girl, a pair of handcuffs, a king-sized bed, and..."

"Dean!" he cut-in, preventing Dean's perverted sexual fantasies to be shared out loud, "That's not why we're here."

"Okay, okay!" Dean responded looking disappointed, "Its just you could have warned me that I'd be forced into celibacy, I could have become a nun instead! Would be a lot safer then doin' this gig too..."

Sam was scowling at him, waiting for some sense to set into his older brother before they could continue.

"Look, what's to say that lady _didn't_ commit suicide, and that shadow wasn't just a...well, normal shadow. Of course the daughter is gonna be seeing things, she saw her mom get squashed all over the road. Would kinda mess with your head a bit."

"Dean, of all the people to say something like that..." Sam gazed in disbelief at Dean's attitude towards this, thoughts of their own late mother washed painfully over his mind. Sometimes he wondered if this was his brothers way of coping with all of this. Shutting things away so that he didn't have to deal with them. "We lost our mom from something sinister," he sighed heavily, "if it _was_ something supernatural that caused Mrs Reeves and the others to commit suicide, we need to help. It might happen again, I really think that we have to check it out."

"I'm sorry man. Its just, I don't know if it sounds like one of our kind of jobs, y'know." Dean's voice had chilled out now. Sam believed that was due to bringing up mom. Dad had always used that trick when they were younger, to help spur them on in their training. It had worked every time without fail.

Sam looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Alright! We'll check it out." Dean gave in.

Sam and Dean decided that they would drive straight over to see Chloe Reeves at the psychiatric hospital to see if they could get any more information from her. They decided that they would go in disguised as special agents, so they had dressed accordingly in black suits and had donned neckties; a get-up that always made Dean feel as if he looked really stupid, even though it complimented his handsome features.

Once they had arrived, they cautiously entered the hospital, taking care to make sure that there were no real cops about. Luckily, there were no such threats, so they approached the receptionist at the counter.

"Excuse me Miss," Dean said to the pretty brunette, smiling pleasantly. He quickly flashed a fake badge, not giving her enough time to see it too well, "I'm Officer Starsky, and this," he motioned over to Sam, "is Officer Hutch."

Sam fought the desperate urge to roll his eyes at Dean's choice of alias. Sometimes he made them so obvious, he was sure that one day _very_ soon, they would have security set onto them straight away without warning.

"We are here," Dean continued, "to talk to Miss Chloe Reeves regarding the recent death of her mother. We need to make sure that we have all of the correct information we need in order to finish up the paperwork before we can close the case."

"Oh," the brunette said, "I thought the police had already got everything that they needed." she was obviously instantly attracted to Dean, much to Sam's annoyance, and was smiling in a flirtatious way back, running her long red fingernails through her shoulder-length locks.

Dean had seen women react this way so many times, he knew the best way to get what he wanted, was to play the game back.

"Y'know," he whispered quietly, leaning in closer to her, reading her name off her badge, "I'm not really supposed to tell you this, Sarah, but Hutch here, he kind of accidently shredded some important documents, and we need to re-do some of it before the boss finds out he screwed up. You wouldn't be able to help us out would you? It won't take long, and I may even have time to get you a coffee on your break afterwards." he grinned hopefully at the flattered girl, who Sam was guessing was a newbie here, and obviously hadn't been informed that she shouldn't help out just any old guy who strolled in and started trying to seduce her. Female staff acting this recklessly, he imagined, would rather go against hospital policy, but Dean did seem to have that kind of effect on woman. A sad fact that he'd had to get used to.

Sarah held a fingertip to her lip, and seemed to think about this for a few seconds, it was either that, or she was just taking advantage of the chance to stare at the handsome stranger for a few moments longer. "Okay," she finally said, in a nearly giggle-like voice. She handed them visitor passes, then, she pressed a button on a small panel on the counter in front of her, which made a door to the right let off a slight buzzing noise. "Shes in ward three which is on the next floor, room number eleven."

"Thankyou." said Dean winking as they walked past her and through the door. "Like putty in my hands." he remarked in a highly contented tone once it had shut securely behind them.

"Dude! Your so full of yourself. Y'know, one of these days your lucks gonna run out." Sam cursed.

"Ha! Not with the woman! What can I say Sammy, I've got charm. When I'm good, I'm good, but when I'm bad, I'm better! If you took a leaf out of my book every now and then, you might get to see a little action." with that, he slapped Sam playfully across the back.

Sam came to a stop and huffed moodily as Dean continued his brisk walk towards the stairs that led up to the next floor.

"C'mon Hutch, or next time I'll tell 'em that your names Huggy Bear!" Dean shouted without looking back.

Sam sighed heavily as he began walking off to join him.

Chloe Reeves was sat cross-legged and motionless on her bed as Sam and Dean entered the room. She didn't even look up to see who was here, she just stared blankly at the plain white wall in front of her. Her long straight blonde hair was draped lankly over her shoulders, her eyes had dark rims underneath as if she had been severely sleep deprived.

The brothers walked slowly forwards, and stopped just in front of her gaze.

"Hello Chloe. My names Sam, and this is Dean. We need to ask you a few questions about what happened to your mom, that's if you feel up to it." Sam's words were silky, soft and gentle, and edged with genuine sympathy. He knew that the 'Jennifer Love-Hewitt approach' bugged his brother, but he refused not to treat each situation with the tenderness that it deserved. The sixteen year old girl in front of them, had just been to her own personal hell and back, and they needed to be sensitive if they were to get anywhere. Luckily for once, Dean seemed to hold back and let him take the drivers seat here.

After a few long moments, Chloe looked into Sam's eyes. The brothers got their first proper look at the girl. Her skin was dull and her cheeks sallow. Her dark brown eyes showed her deep pain.

"Can you tell us what happened that day?" Sam continued.

"I...I've already told everyone. Nobody believes me. They just think I'm crazy." she said quietly.

"It's okay, you can trust us. We've heard all sorts in our line of work. Whatever you have to say, we'll understand." Sam encouraged her gently.

"Really?" she went on, "Have you ever heard someone saying that they saw a ghost?"

Dean coughed uncomfortably, as Sam shot him a knowing look. They had to be careful about what they said about themselves here, otherwise they might end up being admitted to the ward themselves. They had to play it as dumb as possible.

"A _ghost_?" Sam asked, "Can you describe what exactly you think you saw?"

Chloe looked slightly puzzled at this question, but answered anyway. "It was black, but kinda see-through, like a shadow. And it looked like it had a hooded robe on. Its hard to describe it any other way."

"And you saw this _ghost_ just before your mom died?" Dean asked, finally participating with the questions.

"Yeah, but..." Chloe paused.

"What? What is it?" Sam asked guessing that there was a lot more to this.

"I saw it before then too, about a day before."

"Where did you see it?" Sam asked curiously.

"Well, I was at home, sitting at the table in the kitchen, and mom came in. As she walked past me, I saw it. It was like it was following her. But then it disappeared and I didn't see it again until she...died..." her voice trailed off as she started to cry.

Sam gently took a seat on the bed beside her, and put an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. "I'm sorry." he said in a soft whisper.

"Look, Chloe. We have just one more question," said Dean, Sam nodded at him, acknowledging that it was about time that they should leave her in peace, "Your mom, was there any change in her behaviour before she died?"

Chloe rubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, and took a deep breath before she looked up at Dean. "Yeah, she seemed, I dunno, kinda down. I remember thinking that it was unlike her. She was usually so happy, so full of life..." she couldn't manage to say any more, the weeping had started up again and wasn't going to stop any time soon.

Sam rubbed her back gently, before getting up to join Dean, leaving her to grieve and go through the motions.

"So what now?" Dean asked as they had got back into the Impala. He turned the key, bringing the engine to life with a roar, and headed out of the parking lot.

"Well, I think we should visit the wife of the third victim. A Mrs Harris, her husband Phil slit his wrists in a dentists waiting room."

"Okay, Sam, now _that_ sounds like a bona-fide suicide, I mean, _I'd_ rather slit my wrists then get a tooth pulled."

"Not funny." said a very un-amused Sam. "Anyway, Phil Harris was a well respected professor at Little Rock University. He had a successful career, a truck-load of money, a wife and two kids; why would someone like that want to kill himself?"

"I don't know Sam. It just happens like that sometimes. People hide all sorts of shit inside and act like theres nothing wrong, pretending that they are in la de dah land."

"Anyway, his death came just four days before Sharon Reeve's, and I think its more then just a coincidence, I have a gut feeling about it."

"Yeah. Gotta love that gut." Dean responded sarcastically.

"So Mrs Harris," said Sam softly, "is there anything else that you can tell us about your husband's behaviour over the few days before he died?" The brothers had arrived at the Harris residence, still keeping up the agent guise, and had told her that they were sent to do a follow up report for their records. They sat on the black leather couch opposite to her, a pine effect coffee table was set in front of them. She had her right leg crossed over her left, and was wearing a short black dress, which Dean noticed, was riding up her thigh, and making him think inappropriate thoughts about the widow. Even though she was in her forties, she really was quite beautiful.

"Well," Mrs Harris began quietly, breaking Dean away from his secret fantasy, "he was acting kind of strangely those last few days." she stared into a tea-cup which she cradled in her hands just above her lap.

"Exactly what do you mean when you say _Strangely_?" Dean asked shooting a quick look at Sam.

"It was as if he was isolating himself. One of the days, he locked himself in the study for a whole day and wouldn't come out, not even to eat. He didn't show any interest in our children, Petey and Alisha." she sighed deeply, "It was as if he'd become a different person. I just don't understand what could have happened to him. Why he would have ended his life that way..." a few tears started to fall down her face, prompting her to remove a tissue from a box that was on the table next to her. She wiped her cheeks dry, then took in a few shallow breaths as she composed herself. "I'm sorry, It's just been really tough." she smiled bravely at Sam and Dean.

"We understand." Sam smiled slightly back.

"Can I just ask you," said Dean, "did anything..._unusual_ happen around him while all of this was going on?"

Sam discreetly nudged him with his arm, as a puzzled look crossed over Mrs Harris' face.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Er..." started Dean looking at Sam, trying to find the careful version of words that he needed,"I mean, did you see anyone strange talking to him, or say for instance, following him?"

"_Following him_? I don't think that I quite understand...," she responded.

"What he means," Sam interrupted, "is, do you know of anyone who might have been trying to hurt your husband, did anyone have any grievances with him?"

"I don't think so...anyway, I thought it was confirmed as a suicide. Are you telling me that there might be more to this?" her tone had turned worried now.

Sam needed to be careful, "No no, not at all," he said calmly, "its just that we are required to ask all of these questions, just to be thorough."

Luckily, Mrs Harris seemed to relax slightly, "Oh, okay." she said.

The sudden high pitched ring of a telephone echoed from the hallway.

"I'm sorry, will you excuse me for just a moment." said Mrs Harris, as she got up to her feet, set down her tea cup on the coffee table, and made her way out to the hall to answer it.

"So what do you think?" Sam asked Dean in a whisper.

"Well I think we'd need to check out that dentists waiting room, maybe run the EMF over it, see if theres anything to this."

"Your actually interested in this now?" Sam asked, noticing a slight change in his brother's attitude towards this.

"Well, I guess it won't hurt to check it out, besides, now I realise that there is no way Mr Harris would have intentionally wasted himself."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Well, would you want to end it all if you were married to a MILF like her?" Dean motioned with a quick nod of his head towards the door.

"Dean!" snapped Sam, "The woman's husband has just died, and you've been eying her up!?"

"Well..." Dean smirked, "with him gone, she might get a bit lonely..."

Sam only responded with a look of disgust, as Mrs Harris walked back through the door and rejoined them.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm afraid I have to go out now, there is still so much to do. I have to go to go and collect the children from my sister's house. I took them over there so that I could get some things sorted out. They are really very upset about their father." she looked deeply saddened again.

"We understand, "said Sam politely, "We have everything that we need now anyway. Thank you for your time."

"So this is the room that it happened in?" Dean asked Mr Crutner, a short medium built man, with thick black rimmed glasses, who ran the practice.

"Yes," he replied, wiping a sleeve of his white coat across his brow.

"And no-ones had access to the room since?" asked Sam.

"Just the police, and the clean-up crew." as he said this, he stared at a patch of carpet to the back, which Sam guessed, had been where it all happened, as that area was a shade lighter, probably where the blood had been bleached from it. "But I've shut the doors to patients ever since it happened." Mr Crutner continued, "Truth is, nobody really wants to come in here anyway at the moment, its kind of freaked them all out. After what that man did...all that blood..." he trailed off, and shook his head, and Sam couldn't figure out if this was due to the frustration of his business being put on hold and losing him money, or wether it was because he was still shook up over the whole thing himself.

"Were you here the day that it happened?" Dean asked him.

"Yes, of course, but I was in with a patient; root canal. I was about half-way through the procedure when one of my staff burst through my door and informed me of what had happened." he sighed heavily.

"Mr Crutner," Sam began, "How many other patients were waiting in here when Mr Harris took his life?"

"Well actually, he was the last patient of the day, so he was in here by himself at the time."

"So who found him?" Dean asked curiously.

"Oh...um...the receptionist. It had scared the life out of her, poor woman. She'd only started working here that morning, hasn't been back since of course."

"We'll probably need to speak to her," Sam said, "Would you be able to give us an address, or a phone number?"

"Um...yes. I'll have to go and take a look on the computer for those. You won't mind waiting a few moments will you? I'm not so great operating those things if I'm honest."

"Sure. We don't mind waiting." said Dean, glad that he and Sam were about to be left alone long enough so that they could get the EMF out to do a check.

Mr Crutner left the room, and began his way down the hall to the reception area's only computer.

Dean closed the waiting room door after he left, and removed the EMF from his jacket pocket. He and Sam walked side by side slowly through the room, holding the meter out to scan the air.

"Nothing, it's clean." Dean grunted. "Well Sammy, if there was anything here, its gone now."

"Theres got to be something," Sam said, disappointment tainting his tone, "some sort of clue..." he bent down on his long legs at the edge of the faded spot on the carpet, and stared at it endlessly.

Dean turned the EMF off, and popped it back into his pocket. "Look Sam. Like I said before. Maybe these people really did kill themselves. Its not a total impossibility that these arn't connected to one another."

Sam didn't respond, he just sucked in a deep breath as he pondered over the situation. Okay, so far, they hadn't found anything all that helpful, but somehow, he just knew that something bad was at work here, even if Dean didn't think so. They didn't always agree, after all, and on occasion in the past, they had proved one-another wrong about certain things. Could this be another one of those moments?

The door suddenly flew open, and Mr Crutner strolled back into the room clutching a piece of paper in his right hand. "Here we are." he said, "Managed to find it quicker then I'd expected after all."

Sam stood up, and reached his hand out to grab the paper.

"Both the address and phone number are there, so you should be able to contact her easily enough..."

"Actually, I don't think that's going to be possible." Sam said cutting in, staring with surprised wide eyes at the details on the paper.

"Sammy? What is it?" Dean asked, snatching the paper from his brother's hand. After he'd read what was on it, he glanced up at Mr Crutner. "_Sharon Greeves? _She was the receptionist who found Phil Harris?"

"Yes...that's correct. You know of her?" he asked, looking worried now that Sam and Dean's expressions had changed dramatically.

"Yeah, you could say that." said Dean, "It just so happens that Mrs Greeves committed suicide as well...just four days after Mr Harris did." he turned to Sam, "Well looks like we got ourselves a connection here after all."

Little Rock University was alive with activity as students and professors moved to and fro through the great building. Sam and Dean made their way down the west corridor heading for the office of the late Professor Harris. At this point, although they had now made a connection between his and Mrs Greeve's deaths, they lacked further clues and leads, and they were hoping on the off chance, that they might stumble onto something here.

As they approached the end of the corridor, they saw a heavy oak door, with a name plaque indicating that it was Harris's office, and that he was the head of medical studies. Well, _used to be,_ that is. To the left hand side was a display stand emblazoned with photos of the professor, a tribute set up by the staff and students of the University. A small round table stood next to the display, on top of which stood a large lit candle, its wax dribbling in spasms over the side.

A few of the passing students stopped to look over the photos, paying their respects in their own way. From the look of the carefully put together display, it was obvious that the professor had been well thought of here by everyone.

Sam and Dean themselves stood and gave the photos a glance. In most of them, Phil Harris was a beaming example of happiness, larking around with the students in class, all the way through to field trips where he put his expertise to practice, and passed on all of his valuable knowledge to his students. It was hard to believe, stood here looking at these, that this was the same man who died in the way he did.

The brothers suddenly turned at the sound of heels clicking on the hard floors, and saw a red-headed woman approach. As she came to a stop in front of the photo display, they could see that tears were running down her face.

"Such a loss..." she said whimpering, although she wasn't really talking to them, she was merely commenting on the situation out loud.

"Excuse me," Sam said softly to the woman after a few moments, "Do you work here?"

"Yes," the woman sniffed. She whipped a tissue out of her pocket, and mopped up her tears, suddenly aware that her emotions were on show so openly.

"My names Sam, and this is Dean. Were from the sheriffs department." They flashed there fake I.D.s.

The woman extended her hand in one quick motion, and took turns to shake with both Sam and Dean. "Elizabeth Ravenwood. I'm the dean here."

"We know that this is a very difficult time, but would we be able to ask you a few questions about the professor?" asked Sam.

"Yes...yes, of course." said Elizabeth, still sniffing to recover from the teary outburst.

"We just need a few more details for our records. In fact, it might even help if you would let us have a quick look around his office, if that is possible?" said Dean.

"Yes...um...here, come in." she withdrew a bunch a keys from her pocket, and unlocked the professor's office.

As they stepped inside, they noticed nothing unexpected, it was just a standard office, shelves full of books, and a large desk buried under an immense weight of paperwork; probably student papers that had been awaiting their turn to be graded.

Elizabeth walked around the back of the chair and up to the window behind. She pulled a cord which opened the blinds, lighting the room up a little more. It was easier on the eye then the yellowy artificial lights.

"How long had you been working here with professor Harris?" Sam asked.

"It would have been eight years this fall. I just can't believe that he's gone..."

"In that time that you worked with him, did you notice if he ever suffered from depression, or if maybe he might have fallen out with anybody here at the University?"

"Depression?" said Elizabeth, "No, he was always very happy, balanced. Well at least until just before he died..."

Dean and Sam locked gazes as this started to sound very familiar.

"So he was acting differently for a few days?" Sam asked.

"Yes, but of course, we all put it down to what happened the other week..."

"What? What happened the other week."

"One of his students, Max Fraser, died in a car smash. It was a terrible accident. Well, they still don't quite know if it was an accident or not. Some say that he crashed intentionally, that he was driving too recklessly for it not to be."

Again, Sam and Dean made eye contact at the information. Another suicide that was linked. Sam thought back hard to the articles that he'd read about the deaths on the net, and did vaguely remember the student's name.

"Do _you_ think that it was suicide?" Dean asked.

"I just don't know. I mean, Max had his ups and downs like anyone. He was a quiet lad really, but very hard-working. It was his dream to become a doctor after graduation." she sighed heavily, "Would have made a damn fine one too." she stared out of the window which looked down on the parking lot.

"So, professor Harris was affected by his death?" Sam asked, although he would have thought, if that had been the case, his wife would surly have mentioned it to them.

"Well certainly not at first, well not what you would call emotionally. I think that he was more disappointed with Max then anything else. I suppose that he did feel partially responsible, after all, he did see it happen. "

"So he witnessed Max's death in person?" Sam asked.

"Yes. Happened out in the parking lot. He drove right into a wall at the north end. Phil was walking to get to his own car at the time when Max whizzed right past him. He said he shouted, and waved his arms about in an effort to encourage Max to brake. But of course, it was all over so quickly, there was nothing that he could do."

"Did he see anyone else with Max just before he died?" Dean asked.

"Well he said at first that he'd thought he'd seen someone else sitting in the passenger side, but when the EMTs arrived, they only found Max's body in the car."

"I think we have all of the information that we need now, so we should be on our way." said Sam, as he and Dean started a slow walk back to the door, "Thank you for your help."

"Do you know what doesn't make sense here Sammy?" Dean said as he stretched out on his bed when they had arrived back at the motel, "If Professor Harris witnessed one of his students commit Harry-Carry, then why didn't his wife mention it to us when we asked her what had happened on the lead-up to his death. Seeing that must have screwed with him right, which could have logically explained why he ended up isolating himself, and started acted strangely."

Sam opened up the laptop and set it on the small table in front of him, then he sat on the detestable burgundy PVC covered stool and turned it on. "I was wondering about that myself. Maybe she didn't think that was the cause of his change of behaviour, therefore didn't think to mention it."

"Oh come on man!" snapped Dean, sitting up, "It would have been the obvious thing to mention. Plus anyway, I'm sure I read somewhere once that if someone commits suicide, people they know are at an increased risk of following their lead, like some kind of chain reaction..."

"I don't think so Dean. These people were connected, but its not as if they were close friends or relatives, besides, Elizabeth Ravenwood said that Mr Harris mentioned that he thought he saw someone else in the car. Maybe it was the same as what Chloe Reeves saw when her mother died."

"Yeah...maybe..." Dean sighed, letting himself fall back onto the bed, his head sinking into the plump pillow.

As Dean caught up with some sleep, Sam spent a while looking back through the articles that had brought his attention to this job in the first place. He studied the article that detailed the 'accident' of Max. Again, their was a question mark over wether the police could say if that was all it was, and not indeed suicide. The police mechanics had examined the wreckage of his car, and at least from what they could tell out of the parts that were left, there was no evidence of foul play, or a mechanical fault.

He stretched his long body out whilst yawning. His eyelids felt heavy and sore from staring at the laptop's bright screen for so long. He twisted his upper body slightly and glanced over towards Dean who was still fast asleep, tucked up under the quilt safely with a peaceful expression on his face as he dreamed the night away.

To see Dean like this comforted him. Though they had both lost so much throughout their lives, his brother had become a constant. The simple sight of his one remaining family member, safe and sound just feet away from him, was reassuring.

Sam sighed as he turned his focus back on the laptop, the photo of the brown haired, fresh faced Max Fraser stared back at him. He was feeling frustrated that he couldn't figure out what was pushing these people to take their own lives, that there was no way to reassure _their_ families.

He reached forward to the side of the computer, and grabbed his dad's journal, and started to carefully finger through the pages in hope of coming across something that matched the description of the 'black shadow' that had been witnessed in two of the three deaths here, and if dad had come across anything like it first hand.

After half an hour, he'd had no luck and his eyes were starting to blur over anyway, so he decided to call it a night. He stood up and made his way over to his bed, stripping off his t' shirt as he went. Finally, after pulling off his jeans, he climbed under his quilt pulling it snugly around himself and closed his eyes, he was asleep within moments.


	2. PART TWO OF TWO

**(PART TWO OF TWO)**

The sound of cheerful whistling, a Bad Company tune, woke Sam. He groaned tiredly as he sat up stiffly. A freshly showered Dean was coming out of the small bathroom, his mood perfect due to a good nights rest. The same couldn't be said for Sam. He felt as though he might as well not even have gone to bed at all. He certainly wasn't up for his brother's renditions of classic rock.

"_Dean..._" he said in an annoyed tone.

"C'mon Sammy!" Dean said exuberantly as he approached his sleepy brother and slapped him on the back, "Get up already, it's breakfast time!"

Breakfast was the usual charade; Dean wolfed down a hearty plate of cardiac arrest provoking greasy food, while Sam went for a more conservative choice of buttered toast and an orange juice.

"So what next?" Dean asked with his mouth full.

"Well we still need to find out more about the first victim, Amanda King. She worked part-time at the prison in the medical bay."

Dean looked slightly bemused, "In a _medical_ bay? Wasn't that Max kid studying to be a doctor? Could that be another connection?"

"I don't know. I havn't been able to find out anything else. It does seem more then just a strange coincidence though." Sam sighed, "Look Dean, one things been troubling me. So far, each victim witnessed another one of the victims die right before them in one way or another. Chloe Reeves saw her mother die, I'm wondering if that means that she could be in danger. What if this thing goes after her too?"

"Well, I got to admit, it seems to have been the pattern. I guess this will be confirmed if we can find out exactly what happened to Amanda King. If for some reason Max Fraser saw her die..."

"I think one of us should go and see Chloe again, keep an eye out for her, just in case." Sam said with concern.

"Thats a good idea, except for one thing Sam. We still don't know what we are up against, so if it does show up to make Chloe do herself in, what can we do about it. How do we destroy it?"

"Well," said Sam after taking a quick sip of his juice, "whatever this thing is, from the way that Chloe described it before, it sounds like some kind of spirit, so I guess rock salt would help hold it off. But even better, we need to find out who it was..."

"Do some grave digging, salt the bones and torch the sucker." said Dean finishing off Sam's sentence.

"Yeah. That's about the size of it."

"Look," said Dean as he finished off the last fork-full of his breakfast hastily, "Why don't you go check out what happened to this Amanda, and I'll stick close to Chloe at the hospital, your better at all that background stuff anyway, while I'm always the better...action man." he beamed confidently.

Sam glowered, before his expression turned serious again. "Okay, but you have to be careful Dean."

"Sammy, have faith in your old bro. Nothing can happen so long as Chloe is alright, and I'm sure as hell gonna make sure that she stays safe, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

Dean allowed Sam to drive the Impala, and drop him off at the tricky part about leaving Dean there had been that they'd had to find the smallest of the shot guns that they had, capable of firing rock salt rounds, so that Dean could easily smuggle it into the hospital just in case he would end up needing it. Luckily, they had found the perfect sawn-off in the trunk which Dean had to shove under his jacket to conceal. And for extra peace of mind, Dean packed his .45 too, although of course, that was no good against most of the things that they came up against.

They hadn't bothered putting on their best suits this time, they had left the motel in too much of a hurry. There were more important things to worry about then what they were going to wear.

After Dean had successfully made his way into the hospital, Sam drove out of the parking lot and headed over to the prison. He hadn't yet worked out how he was going to get access to the information that he needed, and so it was beginning to look as though he would end up making it up as he went along. He didn't like feeling so un-prepared especially when he was about to set foot on prison grounds and lie his ass off, but he knew he had to do this or other people, maybe Chloe if his suspicions were correct, could die.

It was obvious when he had reached his destination. High walls surrounded the prison perimeter, endless coils of barbed wire atop of every surface. He pulled into the parking lot, carefully observing a couple of guards who stood chatting and smoking their cigarettes near a gate at the north side. They looked as if they were sharing a joke of some sort because they were laughing. The one man was heavy set, and his great belly wobbled with his cackling.

Before getting out of the car, Sam scanned the rest of the north wall, and spotted a sign that indicated there to be an office. He grabbed the door handle and opened it. As he shut the door, he looked around and noticed that the two guards were now staring directly at him. _Uh Ohhh... _he thought to himself,_ stay calm, stay calm._

He could feel the concentrated gazes of the guards on his back as he walked as un-suspiciously as possible. He finally reached the office sign, and noticed a door inset into the wall. Before entering, he gazed into the window. He could see a grey haired woman in her sixties, arranging files neatly onto shelves behind a small counter. A younger brunette woman sat on her own at a desk in the far corner, talking on the phone. _Well this shouldn't be too tough,_ he thought.

He opened the door and walked in, headed for the older woman at the counter. As he came to a stop, the lady dropped what she was doing, and turned to face him, a pleasant smile on her face. Her glasses were nearly on the very end of her nose, so she looked at him over the top of the frames.

"Hello dear, can I help you?" she asked helpfully.

"Yeah...I..." he struggled to find the words he should say, "I'm here because of Amanda King..."

"Oh heavens!" the woman exclaimed, "How silly of me. We've been expecting you..."

"You have?" Sam asked feeling puzzled inside whilst trying not to show his surprise on the outside. How could they have been expecting _him_?

"I was so sorry to hear about your mother dear...we boxed her things up for you, they are upstairs in the medical bay." the woman continued, "Sue?" she gently called to the brunette, "This is Amanda's son. Peter, isn't it dear?" she asked looking back at Sam.

"Er...yeah, that's me." Sam was utterly confused now, but as he didn't have a plan anyway, he figured it was just best to go along with this. It would make things easier now that they had got his identity confused with Amanda King's son. It was lucky for him really, as he was still wondering what he would have told them otherwise.

Suddenly, the office door flew open, and Sam shifted his gaze, noticing that it was one of the guards, the heavy set guy, that he had seen outside.

"Everything alright Joan? Just doing my rounds of the grounds, thought I'd just check in." he said, addressing the older lady, but at the same time, scrutinizing Sam with a wondering gaze.

"Yes, we're alright thanks, Bill." Joan responded casually, "Although, may I ask you a favour?"

"Sure." said Bill.

Joan looked up at Sam with sympathetic eyes. For a moment, he felt bad that he was tricking such a sweet old lady, but regularly deceiving people was a necessary part of the job, not only to protect himself and Dean, but to protect those around them.

"This is Amanda's son." she leaned over, and gently patted Sam on the arm, "Hes come to collect her things. Would you be able to take him up to medical to fetch them?"

"Of course." Bill said, his expression had changed now, and he was no longer looking at Sam as if he might be up to something, much to Sam's relief. "Let me just radio in, make sure the section is secure from prisoners." With that he pressed a button on the side of his walkie talkie, and explained the situation to the man on the other end.

"Okay," Bill said after a few moments, "we're alright to go ahead."

Bill led Sam through a series of corridors, each with doors that someone had to buzz them through each time. These were staff only corridors, Sam noted. After a little while, he and Bill reached an elevator. They got in, and Bill pressed a button to take them to level 5, right at the top.

Eventually, they reached their destination and Sam could see that they had reached the medical bay. He didn't imagine such a facility in a prison, it looked exactly like a small section from a hospital. A few staff members passed them as they made their way through, they greeted Bill as they past.

"Ah. This is it." Bill said as they turned right around a corner. He came to a stop outside a door, took out a bunch of keys and unlocked it. He held the door open for Sam. "Second locker on the right." he said, "I'll give you a few minutes to yourself kid."

"Thank you." said Sam, as he made his way into the room, and shut the door behind himself.

He managed to find the locker straight away. He opened the door to find a cardboard box, which apparently had been filled with Amanda's things. He grabbed the box, and made his way over to a chair that was in the corner. He sat down and rested the box on his lap.

After opening it, he started to look through everything carefully, in case there were any clues about what had happened to Amanda, but of course, there wasn't. Just a few items of clothing, make-up, a couple of books and general knick knacks that you would normally associate with a woman's belongings.

Sam sighed. He knew that he'd need to ask Bill about what had happened. He also realised that the _real_ Peter King could be stopping by at any moment to collect these things.

Sam decided to tip the contents of the box into the bottom of the locker, leaving him with the empty box. He would need Bill and everyone else to continue to believe that he was Peter until he was safely off prison grounds, so by taking the box with him, they would think that he was taking Amanda's things with him.

He closed the locker, then made his way out of the room. Bill was leaning up against the opposite wall waiting for him. Sam decided that he had no choice. He would have to ask Bill some questions now, or his chance would slip away.

"I was just wondering..." Sam said, "there were a few things about what happened to my mother that I'm still unclear on...and I was wondering if you can tell me a couple of things."

"Okay, I'll try." Bill said straightening himself out.

"Well, its just...how did she seem to you before she died, I mean, did she appear to be upset or anything. She didn't always talk to me about these things you see..."

"Well yeah. I guess she was upset, mind you, so were a lot of people."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked curiously.

"I'm surprised that she never told you _this_. But anyway, a couple of weeks before she...er..._passed_, we had a little problem here at the prison. Couple of the inmates got out of hand in the cafeteria, before we knew it, it was complete chaos. They were all at it, punching, kicking..." he paused while he remembered, "Anyhow, a lot of them ended up hurt and injured, stretched the staff to the limits. We only have a limited number of medically trained personnel, each had to work from different rooms while we separated the prisoners. Your mother, she was up here having to work on her own, in this room as it happens," Bill stretched out an arm to a door that was next to him. It wasn't locked, and his hand caused it to slowly open.

"The guards had brought up this one guy, Henry Baxtor, who was sentenced here after committing multiple armed robberies and attempting murder. One of the other inmates had managed to stab him repeatedly with his eating utensils. Got him deep, they did. Anyways, your mother, she did everything that she could for him, but he'd already lost too much blood, and he died."

Sam gazed through the door into the room where this had happened. It was a small square shape, with a paper lined bed at one end, and various pieces of medical equipment set out. There were a lot of wide windows which gave the room good light, thick steel bars ran down each and every one casting striped shadows across the sterile white wash walls. _So Amanda King saw someone die too, just like the other victims_, he thought to himself.

"Then...your mother...what happened to her...it must have shaken her up more then we could have realised at the time." Bill shook his head from side to side with disbelief. He looked deep into Sam's eyes, "He tried so hard to save her...I'm so sorry."

"Who...who was it trying to save her life?" Sam blurted this question out without thinking, it must have sounded strange, but Bill didn't seem to notice, and answered any way.

"Some student. Sometimes the university send them out to get career experience...they never like getting sent here, can't say I blame them really."

Sam had a bad feeling. "The student, was that Max Fraser by any chance?" he asked.

Bill's expression turned surprised, "Yeah, that's right, how'd you know?"

Sam had to think quickly before Bill got suspicious, "Oh, I think I remember someone mentioning his name..." that was it. All of the deaths were definitely connected. The only question now was, would it continue to happen, or could they stop it before anyone else gets hurt...

Dean had been sat on a bench, and was waited patiently outside of Chloe Reeves' room all morning. So far all seemed to be pretty normal here,_ at least for a nuthouse anyway,_ he thought. The nurses hadn't let him go into her room to see her when he'd arrived, because, for the first time since she'd been committed, Chloe was finally able to sleep properly, and she'd been out for a while now.

There was a small hinged peep-hole built into the door at eye level, so every now and then, Dean took a look to make sure that everything was still alright. It had been every time. The girl was peacefully asleep on her bed.

He sighed out of boredom. He realised that his throat felt a bit dry. The heating was on a little too high for his liking. He glanced to the side, and noticed that there was a Coke vending machine just a few feet away. He got up, and made his way over to it, his hands searching for money in his pockets as he went.

He finally found the coins that he needed, and feeded them into the slot. He pressed a button, and his drink was delivered in the bottom tray. He took the can out, and opened it. It spluttered and fizzed a little due to being shaken up, but Dean ignored this, lifted the can to his lips and began to drink, quenching his thirst.

"Ahhh!" he sighed, "That's better."

_THUD! _

The sudden sound made Dean jump into action. He ran back the short distance to Chloe's room, dropping the can of Coke onto the floor, and peered through the peep hole. She wasn't on her bed any more, but as his focus shifted direction, he gasped in horror. There she was, dangling by a bed sheet that was tied to the light fixture, then around her neck, a chair lay on it's side below her. "DAMN IT!" he yelled.

He quickly stepped back, then kicked the door as hard as he could, once, then twice. It flew open, bits of broken wood was sent spraying into the room as he made a grab for the chair. He set it the right way up, then clambered onto the seat, taking a knife out of his pocket at the same time. As quickly as he could, he hacked away at the sheet, until finally, he was all the way through.

He caught Chloe in his arms, stepped down from the chair, then laid her out on the ground. He put a finger on her wrist to feel for a pulse.

"Somebody help me in here!" he yelled desperately towards the doorway. Looking back down at Chloe, he noticed that he couldn't feel a pulse, and she had started to turn a funny colour.

He adjusted the position of her head, and proceeded in giving her mouth to mouth resuscitation. "C'mon Chloe! Don't you dare die on me!"

He persisted with his attempts to save her life but it didn't take long before he realised that his efforts were fruitless. "Damn it! Where are all the doctors!" he yelled again, "HEY! WE NEED HELP IN HERE!"

But it was too late. She had just about slipped away.

A sudden invisible force shoved Dean away from Chloe's lifeless body. He slid into the bed, smashing his head on the metal frame. Groggily and stunned, he looked up, and saw a black figure moving towards him. As it approached, it was as if a sudden feeling of doom rose from inside of him, he felt like he was plunging into a terrible hopeless darkness...

Whilst driving back to the hospital, Sam decided that it would be a good idea to phone his and Dean's good friend Bobby Singer. Bobby had a wealth of knowledge pertaining to the supernatural, knowledge that had come through age and experience as well as good old hunting. Sam knew that if anyone would have an answer, it would be Bobby.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, he pressed a button which was programmed as Bobby's on the speed dial. He held it to his ear and listened to it ringing.

"Hello?" said the voice on the other end.

"Hey Bobby, it's Sam."

"Sam! It's good to hear from you kid, how are things?"

"Well actually, we've kind of hit a brick wall with a job that we've been working on, and I was hoping you might be able to help."

"Well, I'll certainly try. What's goin' on then?" said Bobby.

"We're in Little Rock. Four people have died in a way that's been made to look like suicide. Each victim witnessed the other's death, and in two cases a black shadowy figure was seen. I think this spirit, whatever, drives the person to commit suicide, takes over their emotions somehow. A couple of the victims were apparently acting differently before they died, y'know kinda depressed."

"Hmmm..." Bobby sighed, "think I've heard of something like that before, hang on a minute."

Sam waited patiently for Bobby to get back to him.

"Ahh, here we are," said Bobby finally, "just found something in one of my books. From what I can tell, I think that your dealing with some kind of malevolent spirit, nasty sons of a bitches by the looks of things. Some of the accounts written here say that they latch on to a living person, and remove their happiness, leaving them nothing more then a weak emotional wreck. Says that sometimes, the spirit will stay with a person over the course of their whole lifetime, never leaving their side, draining their emotions slowly. The victim doesn't even realise what's happening to them, probably just believe that they were born unlucky and miserable."

"But what about the spirit moving from person to person once they have killed them?" asked Sam.

"Um. Yeah, it mentions that too. If somebody witnesses the last victims death..."

"The spirit takes them over too, just like what's happened here."

"That's right." Bobby confirmed.

"Where do those kind of spirits come from in the first place?"

"Well according to this, the spirit comes from someone whos passed, someone who lived an angry violent life, possibly someone who committed murder or had the intent to. But for it to happen, one more circumstance must be in place."

"What's that?"

"Well Sam, you know that tradition that they have in hospitals, that when a person dies, a window is opened to let the spirit out?"

"Yeah."

"Well this spirit wasn't able to go free. Someone forgot to open a window."

"The guy who died at the prison!" Sam exclaimed, "Henry Baxtor, he died in the medical bay in front of the first victim. I saw the room he died in, theres no way the'd ever be able to open the windows in there! They've put up too many bars...and he lived a violent life; armed robbery and attempted murder!"

"Well that must be your guy then."

"Does it say how to kill the spirit? Will burning the bones work?" Sam asked eagerly.

"Just a minute..." said Bobby, he needed to pause to read up some more. "Oh, that could be a problem..." he finally said.

"What? What's wrong?" Sam asked panic in his voice.

"Well, burning the bones will work, 'cept that the current victim might not recover straight away. They'd still probably have to be talked out of wastin' themselves. See the spirit messes with brain activity, sometimes even people around the victim can be affected strangely, slight memory loss etc... "

"We went to see the wife of one of the victims, she forgot to mention that her husband saw one of his students drive his car into a wall...maybe the spirit had effected her." Sam sighed, "Why can't these things ever be easy..."

When Sam pulled into the hospital parking lot, he noticed that there were a number of police cars gathered at the main entrance and a crowd of people standing to one side. _Oh no! Something's gone down already... _he thought. As soon as he found a free space, he slammed on the breaks and got out of the car, shutting the door closed.

He ran in the direction of the entrance, but an officer stepped out in front of him with his hands held up, stopping him from going any further. "I'm sorry Sir, I can't allow you to enter the building."

"But...my brother...hes here somewhere..." Sam said.

"Sir, if you'd like to go and stand down there with the others, one of my officers will come and speak to you as soon as possible." he motioned over to the group of people, and Sam noticed the receptionist, Sarah, that he and Dean had met the day before.

He stepped away from the officer, and paced quickly over to Sarah. It looked as if a few of the other hospital staff were out here too, chattering amongst themselves.

"Hey!" Sam said as he came to a stop in front of her.

Sarah looked surprised to see Sam. He noticed that she quickly scanned her wide eyes over his clothes, obviously curious that he was no longer wearing a smart suit.

"What happened here?" he asked her.

"You tell us. That guy you came here with yesterday..."

"What? Where is he?"

Sarah took in a deep breath, "Well he went a bit... _funny_."

"_Funny?_"

"Yeah, that girl Chloe Reeves who you came here to see yesterday, well he shows up this morning, which was fine until," she paused, "well no one knows exactly what happened, but Miss Reeves is dead, and that friend of yours was the last person to see her."

"He was there when she died?" Sam felt an anxious twinge stirring around in his gut.

"Yeah, I guess. Anyhow, next thing we know was, he was running down the corridor in some kind of state, he had a gun in his hand and was screaming something about a shadow being after him or somthin', scared the life out of Kenneth over there..." she pointed to a skinny man in a long white doctors coat, with a big brown moustache who was stood a few feet away from them.

"Where did he go?" Sam asked as the worry started to show in his tone.

"Nobody knows. He got out through a fire exit at the back of the building."

"Look!" Sam snapped, "It's really important that I find find him right away! Is there anything else you can tell me about what happened, anything at all?"

Sarah looked stunned, "No! That's all we know, I'm sorry!"

Sam didn't wait any longer, he didn't want to get caught up in the police interviews and such. He ran back to the Impala, whipping his cell phone from his pocket. He dialled Bobby to explain what was happening. He'd need all the help he could get now that the spirit had taken over Dean's emotions.

Dean sat huddled up on the carpeted floor of the motel room, slowly rocking himself backwards and forwards. He had the blinds closed, which darkened the room. He felt so unhappy that it was painful. He was still aware of the spirit that was doing this to him, but he could no longer see it himself, but, he could certainly feel it there hanging over him like a black, heavy cloud.

It didn't matter any more though. Chloe had died because of him. An innocent girl. If he'd had been paying more attention...he could have saved her life. But he didn't, couldn't.

"It's my fault, my fault..." he wept, his shoulders heaving up and down with each sob. The tears fell rapidly from his eyes, falling onto his knees. _How could I have let this happen, why did she have to die?_ he thought._ Dad died for me too,I can't take this any more...can't win this fight._

The time passed slowly whilst in this state of mind, but eventually he heard the door open, and looked up to see a very worried looking Sam burst into the room.

"Dean! Thank God I've found you! he yelled as he approached his brother. "Dean?" he fell to his knees, reached a hand out and placed it on Dean's shoulder.

"Get away from me Sammy..." Dean whispered.

"Dean, listen! The spirits latched onto you, it's making you feel this way..."

"She died because of me. I didn't help her." Deans tears grew heavier.

"It wasn't your fault, you did all you can..." Sam said softly, trying to comfort him.

"No!" Dean yelled as he jumped up onto his feet, "I didn't!" He walked over to the table, and kicked it violently causing it to collapse in a heap, confirming it's cheap quality.

Sam sprang up and made a grab for Dean, but he shoved his hand's away.

"You should stay away from me Sam! I can't protect you, I can't save anyone!" he was starting to sweat now as his behaviour got more and more erratic.

Sam had guessed that it was going to be traumatic, but seeing Dean like this was like nothing that he could have imagined. It was as if he had turned into another man completely. He felt the surges of his own emotions rippling through him as tears of his own started to fall.

"Dean...we can work all this out, I promise, okay. Bobby's on his way down to help sort this out, he should be here by morning. We've just gotta get through this until then. We have to salt and burn the remains of a prisoner I found out about. It's his spirit that's doing this..."

"No Sam! I don't want you to get hurt...you have to stay away from me!" he pushed past Sam and started towards the door.

Sam hurried in the same direction, and tried to force himself between Dean and the door before it could be opened, but Dean beat him to it by a split second, but not before Sam could get a tight grip on his wrist.

Dean swung around, "Let go of me!" he screamed, his face up close to Sam's.

"I'm not gonna let you hurt yourself Dean! Your not leaving this room!"

"Damn it Sam!" Dean tried to wriggle free of Sam's grip, but he just held on tighter. "Don't make me do somethin' I'll regret!"

"Your staying here!" Sam yelled back, making a grab with his other hand.

"If I have to do this the hard way Sam, I will, I can't let you follow me! I can't let you get dragged down with me! I don't wanna hurt you but..."

Before Sam knew what was happening, Dean managed to make a move for his .45, and pointed it towards his legs. "I'm sorry Sam," he sobbed, "I have to do this..." he pulled the trigger, and the shot blasted out.

Sam tried to get out of the way, but the bullet hit his calf, "Arrghhhhhh!" he screamed out in pain as he fell to the floor closing a hand around the wound as he went. With the pain, he couldn't find the physical strength to get up to his feet. Instead he was forced to watch helplessly through the open door, to see Dean run out to the Impala. A roar from the engine, and his brother speeded away within seconds.

_**Present Day...**_

"Damn it! What was he thinkin'!" Bobby cursed as he drove himself and Sam around Little Rock in the hope that they would find Dean. They'd been searching all day, but it was getting close to sun down now which would make it more difficult.

"Well that's just it, he wasn't thinking. The spirit is controlling how hes feeling. We've got to find him Bobby, before it's too late." Sam was relieved when Bobby had shown up that morning, he just hoped that they'd be able to find Dean, but he knew that there was a chance that he could be anywhere now. Maybe he'd even left town. It could be like looking for a needle in a haystack. But, he couldn't give up on him. He knew that if the roles were reversed and it was Dean looking for him when he was in danger, that he'd go to the ends of the earth to save him if he had to.

"It may be controlling him, but it still pains me that he shot you like that. Lucky for you it's just a graze."

"Why do you think its affected Dean that quickly and in a way that made him turn on me, I mean, the other victims didn't show violent intentions towards anyone they knew."

Bobby sighed heavily, "Well, I guess it must depend on the person. Your brother tends to hide a lot of himself away, bottles up a lot. Maybe it just brought that out of him, kinda like when a volcano erupts, letting all hell break loose."

Sam's eyes welled up, and a few tears rolled down his cheeks, "I just hope hes okay..."

Bobby quickly glanced from the road to Sam, "So do I kid. We'll find him, somehow, okay? I mean, I already got a contact whos tryin' to find out where Baxtor is buried, that will get us part way there." he looked back through the windshield turning his focus back onto the road ahead. "Maybe you should try his cell again."

Sam sniffed back the tears and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. He must have already tried ringing Dean for what seemed like a hundred times, and had left him message after message, but so far Dean hadn't answered or responded in any way. Even though he thought trying him again this time would turn out the same way, he pressed the button that dialled Dean's number, and held the phone to his ear...

Dean heard his cell ring yet again. But yet again, he didn't know wether he should answer it. He felt conflicted. He knew it was Sam, and that if he told him where he was he'd come to him. He wanted him here, but then again, he didn't. If Sam was near him, he might be in danger from the spirit, but also in danger from him. Because people had died because of him.

He sat in the Impala which was parked at the end of a dirt track upon a cliff that looked down into a valley within Burns Park. This is where he'd been since he'd left Sam at the motel. He stared forwards out of the windshield his tears stinging his red eyes. It was quite a view, the sky was turning a flaming red colour as the sun started to go down. Mountains across the other side of the valley stood out in front of the vivid hue. He even saw, to his surprise, that an eagle was flying contentedly around the sheer jagged rock expanse. It's wing span slicing through the air in a smooth motion that was almost hypnotic.

But his phone kept ringing.

_Maybe I should answer it, hear Sammy's voice one last time, say goodbye..._

He manage to disengage his focus from the view in front of him, and looked down at the passenger seat where his phone lay, the display screen lit brightly up as it rang out urging for his attention. _Just to say goodbye..._

He reached for the phone and answered it quickly so that he couldn't give himself time to change his mind.

"Sammy..." he sobbed.

"Dean! Where are yo..."

"I'm sorry Sam, but I can't keep doin' this..." he shut his eyes and pictured his little brothers face.

"What are you talking about! I can help you! Bobbys here, were going to straighten this out..."

"Nobody can help...but I got it all figured out see...I've even found me the perfect spot to do it..." Dean opened his eyes again, and stared out to the cliff edge that he'd picked out to jump from. "It's beautiful Sammy...theres even an eagle here..."

"Dean, tell me where you are NOW! Don't do this, let me come see you..."

"Goodbye Sammy, I love you..." he hung the phone up.

"NO!" Sam yelled as the call ended, he balled his free hand into a tight fist.

"Sam? What he say?" Bobby asked anxiously.

"He said goodbye..."

Bobby gazed at him, a certain horror in his eyes.

Sam buried his face in his hands, he felt so useless not being able to do more. He'd let his brother down. He was going to die and there was nothing that he could do about it.

Then it hit him. _An eagle_. He brought his head up quickly and turned to Bobby. "Eagles are rare, so there wouldn't be too many places around here that you'd see them, right?" his tone showed a sudden glint of hope which didn't go un-noticed.

"I guess..."

Sam suddenly saw a gas station approaching, "Pull in there..." he pointed.

Bobby turned into the side and came to a stop outside the shop that stood next to the pumps. Sam lept out of the car, and sprinted in.

There was a middle aged man at the serving counter, who looked up as the door had flew open.

"Excuse me..." Sam gasped, "do you know where there is some kind of national park or place where we could see eagles around here?"

"Yep. You want Burns Park, just two miles south of here. Only place you will see 'em round these parts..."

Sam didn't wait to hear any more. He rushed back through the doors, and rejoined Bobby in the car. "We gotta go to Burns Park! Two miles south. I think that's where Dean is!"

Bobby pulled off the gas station lot at top speed, and headed south. A few minutes later, his cell rang. "Hello..." he said as he spoke to his caller, "really? That's great! Thanks for that!" he hung up then shot Sam a quick look.

"Good news. That was my contact, he told me where Baxtor is buried, the cemetery is on the way where we're headed. I'll get what I need from the trunk, and do some diggin' while you go after your brother."

Sam let out a big breathe. Finally there seemed to be a bit of light at the end of the tunnel.

It was dark by the time they had reached the cemetery. Bobby grabbed his shovel, some salt, and gas from the trunk, then disappeared by torchlight amongst the graves to find the plot where Henry Baxtor had been buried.

Sam shifted himself over to the drivers seat, and set off towards Burns Park, driving at a dangerous speed. He couldn't waste another second so keeping to the rules of the road was simply not an option right now.

When he had finally arrived at the park, he drove through an open gateway. In the light of the headlights he could make out a group of tourists to the right, packing their camping gear into their huge RV, in a spot allocated for parking. He squinted and scanned the area carefully. There was a track further behind where the tourists were parked up, but then looking to the left, he could see another dirt track. But which one should he choose.

_C'mon Sam! C'mon! Dean's life depends on you making the right decision..._ he thought to himself, a nauseating pang in his stomach.

He suddenly had a gut feeling, he stepped on the gas and made a left turn, choosing the more deserted looking route.

He tried to concentrate, but the track was getting bumpy, forcing him to drive slower. Walls of overgrowth leaned towards him from either side, darkening the way further even more. After what seemed like forever had passed, he started to question wether he'd taken the right track...but then as a sudden opening appeared, there it was. The Impala.

Sam steered hard to the right into the opening, the tyres spat gravel and dirt all around him. He hit the breaks as he pulled up besides his brother's car.

"Dean!" he yelled as he climbed out of his seat and slammed the door, he didn't even bother to cut the engine or the head lights, "DEAN!"

He opened the door on the Impala's driver side and looked in. Dean wasn't there. "Oh no...DEAN!" he started to panic again as he backed away from the car. His foot twisted on a rock, and he found himself plummet to the hard surface. He gasped in pain as the wound on his calf managed to scrape on the ground.

He managed to bring himself up to a sitting position, a lone silhouette in the moonlight just feet away, suddenly catching his attention. Dean.

The adrenalin gave him the extra power that he needed to get onto his feet, then he started making his way over to his bother, though he was limping quite badly now. It was just as well that he needed to approach Dean with care, as not to startle him into jumping.

The sight of Dean standing on the cliff's edge sent a new cascade of tears down Sam's face which was now dirtied from falling to the ground. He tried to walk silently, the closer he got, he raised his hands up, even though Dean seemed to be fixated on the dark valley below.

"Dean," Sam sobbed, "please don't do this. I need you, I...I can't do this without you. This isn't you Dean..." but he was stunned into silence when the black robed spirit appeared right beside his brother. It was standing in the same stance as Dean, as if copying him.

"Listen to me, you have to come away from the edge, please..." Sam pleaded, but Dean seemed to ignore him. He reached down with one of his hands and edged it slowly to one of Dean's.

Suddenly a loud crackling noise filled his ears, and the spirit was being engulfed by violent pulsating bright orange and red flames. Sam made his move, grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him a few meters from the edge with such force, that they both fell backside first onto the ground, just as what was left of the spirit exploded into a ball of light before it disappeared completely. _Bobby did it!_ Sam thought, _he found the grave and torched Baxtor's remains!_

But there was still one problem left, which was confirmed as Dean leapt to his feet and ran towards the cliff edge.

"Nooooooo!" Sam shouted as he darted after him, luckily grabbing a handful of his jacket just in time, and pulled him to safety again.

"Let me go Sam!" Dean suddenly yelled trying get free from Sam's restraining grip.

"I'll NEVER let go! Your my big brother and I love you...you have to trust me...I'll never let you fall..." Sam sobbed.

Dean suddenly stopped struggling and fell against Sam's chest, weeping loudly.

Sam wrapped his arms tightly and protectively around him, encasing him in a loving safe space. He knew that once he was allowed to go through the motions, Dean would be okay. They'd both be okay.

"How'd you feel?" Bobby asked as he sat on the end of Dean's bed.

Dean lifted his head off the pillow, then sat up. "I feel kinda dumb, i suppose. He still couldn't get over the way he had acted before, although technically, it hadn't been his fault. Attempting suicide definitely hadn't been on his to-do list, so he felt ashamed that he'd nearly took a sky dive off a cliff.

Then there was the other bad thing that he'd done. He looked over to Sam who was sat across from him on his own bed. "I'm sorry I shot you Sammy..." he said softly.

"Hey don't worry about it." Sam said in the same quiet tone.

"Y' know I don't know what I'd do without you bro." he really didn't.

"You know I'd do _anything_ for you Dean, I'll always be here for you. I'll never leave your side."

"Yeah, I know you won't." as he said this, Dean got to his feet and went over to sit next to Sam, pulling him into a hug. Nothing felt safer, nor gave him more reassurance, then knowing he'd always have his brother close by.

**THE END**


End file.
